


Stalag 13's Consulting Detective

by ValorousLeader



Series: The Doctor and Hogan [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Hogan is a stubborn patient, How Do I Tag, Injury, Mystery, Probably ooc, Sgt Joe Wilson is just as stubborn, Sort Of, author does not know how to write deductions, business as usual for the unsung heroes, business not as usual for the consulting detective and his blogger, hopefully, not so subtle hint at another crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValorousLeader/pseuds/ValorousLeader
Summary: Sherlock and John find themselves trapped in World War II Nazi Germany, in the toughest POW camp in all of Germany.
Series: The Doctor and Hogan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009821
Comments: 14
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock and John sat in the back of the truck, handcuffed. Their captors had ordered them in German not to escape and they’d agreed that was best for now. They didn’t know anything about the terrain or even where they were.

“World War II.” John was not happy. “We’re stuck. In Nazi Germany. During World. War. II. I’m going to kill Doctor Smith, soon as he gets us back home in our time. ‘Fun trip to meet Winston Churchill’ he says. ‘Wear RAF uniforms to fit in’ he says.”

He probably would’ve continued for much longer in a similar vein but the Luftwaffe guard watching them barked a **“Silence!”** which they obeyed, except for Sherlock’s muttered, “Thank you.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way, with none of the determination or resignation usual to captured soldiers. They were scared. They had ended up here by mistake, with none of the preparation.

John gulped as he saw the wire gate close behind the truck. They were trapped even more now. Trapped in the wrong year and trapped in the POW camp.

The guard ordered them out and they trudged out, trying not to fall with their wrists handcuffed.

A bald, pudgy man with a monocle and riding crop stood pompously waiting for them. “Welcome to Stalag 13, the most secure POW camp in all of Germany! Now, follow me into my office for questioning.”

As Sherlock walked, he took in the guards, the fence, and the few guard towers. In front of one of the cabins, five prisoners gathered. The man in the front of the group wrapped his arms around himself as he eyed Sherlock and John.

As he was prodded to the door, Sherlock glanced at the group for the last time. At a nod from the front man, the other four walked into a cabin and the remaining one started walking towards the office.

The pudgy man was waiting for them in his office, his hands steepled in an attempt to look impressive. “I am Colonel Klink, your Kommandant. For you, the war is over. There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13, and I intend to keep it that way. Now, gentlemen-”

An obese man burst into the room, panting with the exertion of running ten feet. “Herr Kommandant, Colonel Hogan is demanding to see you.”

“Schultz! Tell him I’m busy.”

“He is talking about the Geneva Convention, sir.”

Klink threw his hands up. “But I had all the copies destroyed.”

A man barged in behind Schultz. “Oh, don’t worry. I have it memorized.”

“Hogan,” Klink protested as they saluted each other, the American’s salute curiously casual. “What are you doing here?”

“The Geneva Convention states that the senior prisoner-of-war is to be present at all interrogations.”

“You call this an interrogation? We haven’t even gotten to the name, rank, and serial number yet.”

“Let’s do it then.” Hogan turned to Sherlock and Joh, an American colonel’s eagle visible on his jacket. “You heard him, gentlemen. Name, rank, serial number, and not a bit more.”

“Holmes, Sherlock. Corporal in the RAF. Serial number 34623023.”

“Watson, John. Sergeant in the RAF. Serial number 31488206.” John’s opinion of Doctor Smith went slightly up as he used the backstory he was forced to memorize.

Klink huffed. “Very well, Sergeant Watson. Corporal Holmes. We’ll have to assign you to a barracks. Hogan? Any suggestions?”

“Well, we’re all full up in Barrack 4. We couldn’t possibly have them there.”

“Barracks 4 is not full. I know what you’re planning. There’s a tunnel in Barracks 4 and you don’t want the new men there. But you can’t fool me. They will be put in Barracks 4.”

Hogan sighed. “Can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“And yet, after two years, you keep trying.”

The American’s face switched from bitterest disappointment to a cheeky smile at blinding speed. “It’s an officer’s duty to escape, sir.”

Looking vindictive, Klink smirked. “But not in your case, Hogan, am I correct? Or perhaps you plan to sacrifice the men here in the name of your duty?”

Hogan stiffened and drew himself to his full and impressive height. His dark eyes and brows completed the threatening picture.

“My duty is to my men. And my men are here.”

With that, he turned crisply on his heel and marched out, with nods of acknowledgment to John and Sherlock.

The two men glanced at each other. Something was going on here. Something very unusual.

“Schultz, take these men to the delousing station, then get them situated in Barracks 4.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John get the feeling the prisoners don't trust them.

Contemplating, Sherlock studied the camp and its inmates, as he leaned against Barracks 4, distanced from the other prisoners.

The camp was odd, no doubt about it. He didn’t have any experience with WWII Luft Stalags, but he was pretty sure most prisoners didn’t talk or act towards their guards the way they did.

Just now, for instance, the far sergeant Schultz was watching some of the prisoners bump a volleyball around, while the short Frenchman next to him held his gun. Though－Sherlock risked a look at the gun－to be fair, it wasn’t loaded.

His check-up with the camp medic finally over, John was coming over. ABout thirty feet away, he raised his hand to wave when a man in a blue uniforum bumped into him. John was clearly flustered; Sherlock could hear him apologizing. The other man did the same, his Cockney accent obvious. Sherlock flicked his gaze over John and the Cockney’s coat.

Having finally extracted himself, John made his way to Sherlock. “That was awkward, but he seemed nice so I didn’t want him to feel bad－”

“He has your wallet.”

A quick feel against his coat confirmed it. John moved to stand next to Sherlock, scowling in the direction of the Cockey, who stood next to a building labeled ‘Barracks 2’, talking with Colonel Hogan. Clearly in thought, the colonel wrapped his arms around himself. His gaze was on John and Sherlock.

“We’re being evaluated.” Sherlock realized.

“What do you mean?”

“The prisoners. They’re feeling us out, to see if they can trust us. A sergeant asked me who won the 1940 World Series. After I told him I didn’t pay attention to Americna sports, he asked me about the location of buildings in London.”

John thought a moment. “The medic, a Sgt. Wilson, asked me about my unit. I have him the backstory Doctor Smith told me to use. 207th RAF bombing squard. Colonel Morrison. But why would they think we’re spies? What would we report?”

“Most likely escape attempts. Tunnels. I know they have some. The dirt on Colonel Hogan’s shoes couldn’t have come from the surface.”

“What’s the point, though? No one has ever escaped from here. But why no one has is beyond me.”

“This camp isn’t normal. That much is clear.”

Finishing his conversation, Sgt. Schultz started to walk towards them but was called back by the Frenchman, who handed him his gun. Then they came over together.

“Sgt. Watson. Cpl. Holmes. What are you doing?”

“They’re planning a mass escape, Schultzie. We’re going to leave tonight through the tunnel.”

Wide-eyed, the two looked at Schultz, who only chuckled. “Jolly joker. No one escapes Stalag 13. Not in 367 attempts.”

“367?” John blurted.

“364,” The Frenchman asserted, almost offended.

“No, cockroach, it was 367, I’m sure of it.”

“ _ Colonel _ Hogan refuses to take credit for the three guards.”

“That’s right. I forgot.”

The Frenchman turned to Sherlock and John. “I’m Corporal Louis LeBeau, but people just call me LeBeau. You’re Holmes and Watson, right?”

At Sherlock’s nod, he smiled. “Welcome to Stalag 13. If you need anything, just ask  _ le Colonel _ .”

“Thanks,” John said. “We’ll do that.”

“I’ll see you later. Bye, Schultzie.”

As LeBeau sprinted towards Barracks 2, Schultz huffed and waddled off.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Something’s going on here.”

A strange voice rang out. “You’re right about that.”

A man in an American private uniform stepped out of Barracks 4. He headed over to them, his gaze sliding every now and then to where Hogan stood.

“I’m Sergeant Haden Leslie. I’m called Leslie.”

“Watson.”

“Holmes. What do you know?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the no-escape record,” Leslie said, disgusted.

John snorted. “Once or twice.”

“When I got here. I figured that there’s a first time for everything. I asked Colonel Hogan about the escape committee but he said that Klink refused his invitation to the next meeting, so he disbanded it.”

“Klink?” John asked. “As in the Kommandant?”

”Yep. After that, I decided to do it by myself. I still needed information about the camp, but the best sources are Hogan and his stooges.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Hogan’s stooges?”

“His henchmen. He’s got at least four of ‘em. Sgt. Kinchloe is his XO. The others are Sgt. Carter, Cpl. LeBeau, and Cpl. Newkirk. You’d’ve seen him. He’s the Cockney in the blue uniform. Sgt. Olsen and the medic, Wilson, are also possibilities.”

“We’ve met some of them,” Sherlock stated drily.

“Sgt. Carter is chatty, so I talked with him, to get ideas for how to escape. He’s a bit dense but he caught on pretty quickly. He told me, and I quote, ‘No one escapes without Colonel Hogan’s permission.’”

Leslie spat in the general direction of Barracks 2. “Our CO is a Kraut-lover. He’s got all the men under his thrall. Hogan tells ‘em to do something and they jump to it, no questions asked.”

“Why’re you telling us this?”

“I’m going to escape and I need help from people who aren’t controlled by Hogan. Are you in?”

John and Sherlock looked at each other, Sherlock’s mind on the tunnel he knew existed somewhere. He wanted to know more but he had no intention of staying here. He nodded and John nodded back.

“We’re in.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock prepare to escape with Leslie.

The next day, John was tasked with the job of watching Hogan and his ‘stooges’, as Leslie so elegantly put it, while the aforementioned sergeant and Sherlock planned the escape. He’d thought about protesting but Leslie had given him no time to. So he settled into his job, grousing as he side-eyed the colonel.

Hogan was watching a game of basketball between Newkirk, LeBeau, and the man Leslie called Carter. None of them were any good at it and Hogan knew it, judging by the smile on his face. It was entertained yet fond, almost parental, nothing like what John would expect from the pro-Nazi.

LeBeau had just traveled halfway down the court and Hogan looked torn between humor and horror, when a man came from Barracks 2 came over. John squinted. Sergeant Kinchloe, the XO.

Kinchloe leaned towards Hogan and whispered in his ear. Gone was the amused parent. Nothing but officer was visible now. He barked a single word－it looked like ‘barracks’－and the basketball game came to an abrupt end. Hogan and his men rushed into the barracks. Carter closed the door almost all the way but left a slight gap. He stood just inside, watching through the gap.

They’d done everything with the ease of frequent practice. As the colonel and his top men left, other prisoners shifted to fill the gaps, a few even picking up the basketball game. It barely looked like anything had changed.

John nodded appreciatively, even as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. This camp made no sense. The prisoners had a tunnel - according to Sherlock - and yet no one had ever escaped. Leslie said Hogan sold out those who attempted escapes and he certainly was up to something, but their whole process seemed very elaborate for just ratting out escape attempts.

As he kept watching, Sherlock came over and joined him. 

“We’re leaving tonight,” he muttered quietly. “Leslie says there’s a loose point in the fence. I looked and he’s right. The spotlight and guard rotations are simple, with large gaps. Once we get out, Leslie will head for Switzerland and we’ll head for where Doctor Smith left his ship.”

“If the Nazis haven’t noticed the random blue box in the woods.”

* * *

After lights out and the other occupants of Barracks for started breathing heavily, the three of them snuck out. Avoiding the few guards, they quietly sprinted to the fence, then army-crawled under and to the woods.

As silently as they could, they ran through the trees, wincing at every crunch and snap. But everything went smoothly for several minutes. No alarms could be heard.

Panting, Leslie whispered for a halt. “We’ve put some distance between us and Stalag 13. I think we can walk now.”

“Oh, thank you,” John wheezed, trying desperately to calm his breathing.

Sherlock frowned. “We should keep walk-”

“ **HALT!** ”

Men in black uniforms, wielding flashlights and guns, emerged in front of them. Around their arms, red bands with swastikas mocked the three escaped prisoners. A short man with a mustache swaggered to them.

“What have we here? Three Allied fliers. Were you shot down or-?”

In the distance, a siren blared. The man smiled. “Or have you escaped from Stalag 13?”

At a head jerk, two of the men advanced on the three, waving guns at them. As they neared, almost close enough to touch, sounds of machine guns and explosions smashed through the air. The Nazis turned to the sounds and the three sprinted of, unknowingly in the direction of Stalag 13.

* * *

Sherlock ran and ran, this time not heeding how much noise he made. He crashed through, tripping but still running. Gunfire sounded behind him but he wasn’t bothered. All he could think about - all his brain cared about - was running.

The guns seemed to be getting closer, when someone tackled him and he fell to the ground hard, with whoever had tackled him in the first place pressing him into the ground. Infuriated shouts in German came and went past, and still, Sherlock was pressed to the ground. A minute went by, then with a hiss of something, the person rolled off of him, panting quietly.

Sherlock started to stand but the stranger jumped up, then dragged him to his feet and off into the woods.

He let himself be led, while trying to find out as much as he could about his rescuer. It was too dark to see his face, but he was clearly a man from the build.

As he was dragged along, Sherlock noticed something off about the other’s gait. He seemed to be dragging his right leg slightly.

Breathing raggedly, the strange stopped. After a moment, he whistled. Dogs started barking and Sherlock whirled on the other, who breathed, “Stay put and when the guards came, put your hands up.”

With that, he melted into the woods, without a sound, just as the dogs ran up. One spared a glance at the direction the man had gone, but then ducked his head, almost penitently, before turning on Sherlock and barking at him like the rest.

Men ran up, in blue Luftwaffe uniforms and hats, and pointed their guns at him. Schultz panted in behind them, clearly out of breath.

“That was very foolish of you, Holmes. Watson and Leslie have already been recaptured.”

Sherlock sighed as the guards hustled him along, back to Stalag 13.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain secrets are revealed.

“I should have you three thrown in the cooler and then throw away the key!”

John, Sherlock, and Leslie stood in front of Klink’s desk, just brought in from escaping, as the Kommandant ranted at them. Schultz stood behind them, ready to carry out their sentencing. Hogan was also there, positioned slightly between Klink and the three prisoners. From his location, he could be placed as standing with either side.

“But,” Klink continued, “fortunately for you, Hogan persuaded me to be merciful. Sgt. Watson and Cpl. Holmes, since you are new here and this is your first offense, you two will go unpunished, as long as it doesn’t happen again. However, Sgt. Leslie, as the instigator, you will be put into the cooler until I can arrange your transfer to another Stalag. That will be all. Dismissed!”

John frowned. The punishments were wildly different. He and Sherlock weren’t being punished at all, while Leslie was taking the full brunt. How could Klink have known that it was Leslie’s idea?

“Schultz, take Leslie to the cooler!”

“Jawohl, Herr Kommandant.”

As Schultz hustled the fuming sergeant away. Klink turned to the remaining men.

“Watson and Holmes, go back to Barracks 4. Hogan, you are dismissed as well.”

They walked out of the Kommandantur and hogan, with a brilliant smile and nod, bade them a good night, before walking off to his barracks. John started for Barracks 4 but had only gone a few steps when he realized Sherlock hadn’t moved but was still standing in front of the Kommandantur, staring at the part of the ground illuminated by the building’s light.

“Sherlock!” He whispered. “What are you doing?”

Almost to himself, Sherlock spoke, “He had a smudge of grease on his face.”

“What? Who did?”

“Hogan.”

“So?”

Sherlock knelt down, still staring at the ground. “The man who helped me wore all black and his face was covered in dark grease.”

“But Hogan couldn’t have－”

Sherlock interrupted. “The man who rescued me was also dragging ris right leg slightly.”

He pointed to a line of footprints. The right prints had a slight drag to them. “And so is Hogan.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I agree. Which is why we need to investigate.”

Creeping in the dark, they made their way to Barracks 2, avoiding Schultz, who sat placidly off to the side, eating chocolate out of a wrapper labeled in English.

They had just situated themselves behind the corner when a man eased out of the barracks, closing the door softly behind him. Sherlock recognized him as Carter. He sprinted noiselessly to another cabin and tapped a rhythm into the door. A few moments later, a man opened the door and stepped out, joining Carter. Together, they sprinted back over to Barracks 2.

As they neared, Sherlock took in the new man’s medical bag and the jacket the American sergeant stripes pulled on top of pajamas. He was Sgt. Wilson, the camp medic.

“Who?” Wilson whispered as they reached the door.

“Colonel.” Carter opened the door and hurried the medic inside.

A few seconds went by then a voice barked out a question that stopped abruptly. The door opened and a tall figure walked out, then stood near the shadow where they crouched. He paused for a second, then in seemingly one fluid motion seized them and pulled them into the barracks, closing the door behind them.

A moment later, lights snapped on. Sherlock and John found themselves lying on a dirty, wooden floor, with several men either standing near, staring at them, or sitting up in bunks, staring. Oddly enough, no one looked like they’d just been woken up.

“Hello, Holmes and Watson. Nice of you to join us.”

Colonel Hogan smirked, clearly threatening them. More of the men emerged from their bunks, readiness in their stances. If Hogan deemed them threats, his men would give them no chance for escape.

Sherlock pushed himself to his feet and dragged John up with him. Squaring his shoulders, he set his face and met Hogan’s gaze. The colonel didn’t flinch, his battle-hardened eyes looking into those of the intimidating genius, not intimidated at all.

John decided to get straight to the point. “Colonel Hogan, if you don’t mind, we’d like to know what is going on here.”

“Of course,” Hogan said, his face losing color rapidly. A bead of sweat appeared.

“ _ Mon colonel _ .” LeBeau took a step towards his CO right as the colonel swayed and hit the ground.

Wilson was on the ground next to him with the inhuman speed of a military medic. “Idiot! He should’ve come to me as soon as possible. I swear, Hogan, if you didn’t have men to take care of you…”

A big man pulled the others semi-around him. “Schultz could come in once the chocolate runs out, to make sure the lights are off. Wilson, we’re going to move you and the colonel into the tunnel. Holmes and Watson, you two go with him, so you don’t get caught here.”

Newkirk hit the side of a bunk and the bottom lifted up, revealing a ladder into the ground. He then helped Wilson pick up Hogan and lower him down the ladder. He and the other men seemed perfectly calm, simply transferring their obedience from their incapacitated CO to his XO. But Sherlock could see the fidgets, the glances at the limp colonel. They didn’t just think of him as their superior officer.

Once down the ladder, John and Sherlock stared with wide eyes. The tunnel they were in didn’t quite fit the name it was more of a cavern, really. Lights lined the walls, showing off the well-equipped radio table and the multiple tunnels branching away. Wilson and Newkirk headed with Hogan down a tunnel, motioning for them to follow.

The new room was big, though nothing near the size of the one they’d originally entered. Boxes with Red Cross labels lined the walls and a medical table was set up in the middle.

Newkirk lowered his CO onto the table, then backed off, joining Sherlock and John as Wilson prepared his tools.

“Colonel ‘Ogan didn’t get a chance to fully explain what it is we do around here. We’re a travelers’ aid society for downed fliers and other folks escaping from the Jerries. We also do a bit of espionage and spying on the side. We can get away with a lot ‘cause Klink’s an idiot. We keep him in charge here with the no-escape record.”

“Colonel Hogan’s in charge?” Sherlock asked.

“‘E’s the brains behind all this. The Guv’nor planned out the tunnels and everything.”

“This place is amazing,” John said, sounding slightly in awe.

“Yeah.” Newkirk looked fond. “‘Course, you ‘aven’t seen most of it.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“You came down into the main room, where we ‘ave the radio, the projector, and several maps. You’re in our makeshift ‘ospital now. This is Wilson’s domain. Only place in the whole camp where the Guv’nor’ sword ain’t law.

“We’ve also got the bomb room, Carter’s workshop. When ‘e came, Guv’nor added more jobs to our list of available services. Avoid ‘is room unless you absolutely ‘ave to.

“Then there’s the dressin’ room. LeBeau and I, as the gentlemen’s tailors, operate in ‘ere a lot. We got civilian clothes but I’ve recently developed a talent for Nazi uniforms. Any ranks.

“Beyond that’s the printin’ room. All our counterfeit stuff happens there. I’m an associate of that group. I bring ‘em anything they need to copy, then slip it back before it’s missed. Sorry ‘bout your wallet, by the way, Watson. But the Guv’nor said you needed to be screened. I put it back into your footlocker.”

John spluttered incoherently but Newkirk continued unperturbed, obviously well-versed in the art of ignoring.

  
  


“All the other rooms are storage for guest rooms, ‘cept the machine room. It’s empty at the moment, but that’s where we keep any machine parts that come in or are we sending out to the folks in London. We ‘ad a plane once. Then there’s the tunnels to the other buildings, of course.

“Well, I think I’ve covered everything. Any questions?”

“The Guv’nor asked London ‘bout you guys, and they said you checked out. ‘Parently you guys and your head agent the Doctor ‘ave pretty ‘igh clearance, ‘igh ‘nuff to know ‘bout us.”

  
  


There was a slight questioning tone to his voice. It wasn’t just curiosity; suspicion, threat, and strangely enough, protection, merged equally in it. On the surface, though, it was perfectly innocent.

“The Doctor’s pretty high up,” Sherlock said noncommittally. “Why didn’t you tell us before? We ended up jeopardizing the no-escape record which could’ve been avoided had we been told.”

“Guv’nor said not to.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t really matter to me, but I think ‘e prefers to tell as few people as possible. Safer that way.”

“But-“ John paused, thinking. “The Doctor’s clearance and authority is high, and applied to us as well.”

Newkirk smirked, then turned to face the bed where Wilson was finishing surgery on Hogan. “We do what the Guv’nor says, regardless of agents with ‘igh clearance or the folks in London. Leastways, that’s ‘ow I feel.”

At that moment, a man entered the room. Sergeant Kinchloe, Hogan’s XO. After a quiet word with Wilson, he walked over to them.

“Colonel’ll be alright, Newkirk. He’s out from exhaustion, mainly.”

Newkirk nodded, his eyes fixed on the table. “Get rid of ol’ Schultzie?” 

“Carter donated his chocolate to supply. He also dropped a hint that we were up to something, so Schultz should stay far away.”

John and Sherlock watched I do so to talk, discussing operations while staring at their CO. John wondered what Hogan did that inspired such loyalty and affection in his men.

Kinchloe sighed. “I’ve got some new codes to send out. Does London need to know about the Colonel?”

“Nah. They’ll just send a temporary replacement.”

“I didn’t plan on letting them know but I wanted your opinion. Glad to know we agree. I’ll drop a request for spare medical supplies, though.”

“You sound like the Guv’nor, Kinch.”

“I try.”

As Kicnh left, Newkirk turned, motioning for Sherlock and John to follow. “Roll call’s in an hour. I’ll run you back to Barracks 4.”

He headed for the ladder.

“Is there no tunnel to Barracks 4?” John asked. 

“Nope. Why do you think the Guv’nor ‘ad you put there?”

  
  



	5. Epilogue

“Carter, I’m fine, really. You know Wilson; he wouldn’t’ve released me unless I was more than functioning.”

Hogan stood in front of Barracks 2 once again, looking almost normal. His men, however, were still feeling protective.

“I know, boyーI mean sirーbut it’s just that…”

“It’s okay, Carter. I appreciate your concern.”

Smiling, Hogan walked over to where Sherlock and John stood. His right leg dragged almost noticeably.

“Watson, Holmes, I’ve got some good news. London sent us a message. The Doctor is going to come in as a Gestapo officer to take you guys back across the channel.”

“Thank you for all your help,” John said, then not-so-subtly elbowed Sherlock.

He sighed. “Thank you for saving me in the woods.”

“No problem,” Hogan assured them. “Besides, I had to save you from your own stupidity. Escaping the night Hochstetter came with a patrol.”

Sherlock frowned, clearly miffed at being called stupid, but then his brow-furrow morphed into one of curiosity.

“Can I ask you a question? Why do you do all this? Why do you stay?”

Hogan answered too quickly. “Well, this is my command ‘til the end of the store, so I’d get court-martialed if I left.”

“Somehow I think you would manage to avoid it. So why? Really.”

“I guess,” he bit the inside of his cheek, “I stay for my men. The Gestapo would likely kill them all if I escaped, but I’d stay anyway. They’re important to me.”

He coughed, then turned quickly towards the gate, when a Gestapo car was pulling in. “Looks like the Doctor’s here.”

The car rolled to a stop and out came a tall, gangly man, with a Gestapo hat perched on a large amount of light brown hair. H seemed to be trying very hard to scowl. After a quick conversation with Klink, then motioned to his driver, who went for Sherlock and John, then hustled them into the back seat.

The Doctor joined them and the door was barely shut before he started babbling. “Sherlock, John, I’m so sorry! The TARDIS was acting weird and then I got caught by the Gestapo! Major Hochstetter is a most unpleasant man! How Hogan deals with him is beyond me! Anyway, we have to go back a couple of weeks, visit old Winnie, and establish your identities as my fellow agents.”

John smirked. "You aren’t actually an agent, you know.”

“Excuse me! I”m Churchill’s top man, I’ll have you know!

**Author's Note:**

> I realize the serial numbers are probably wrong for RAF soldiers but I could only find a generator for American ones. There will probably be mistakes, either in Hogan's Heroes and Sherlock canon or in historical accuracy. Please let me know and I'll fix it. Please leave kudos and comments.


End file.
